


Devil You Know

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Another day another violent noncon, Blood As Lube, Choking, Cleanup, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Loss of Trust, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Rape Aftermath, Rough Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Spells & Enchantments, Spit As Lube, Violent Dean, Violent Sex, damage, spellwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7548715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had never been what Sam would call “subtle.” But this was something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil You Know

Dean had never been what Sam would call “subtle.”

The first time they’d had sex, Dean had initiated, and he’d done it by coming into the bathroom while Sam was showering, and asking point-blank if he wanted a blowjob.

And there’s really only one answer to that question, so, off they’d gone.

Dean didn’t make romantic gestures. There weren’t rose petals or candles, just, sometimes Sam would be laying in bed and Dean would get up and cross the aisle between the beds. He’d pull back the sheets and slide in next to Sam, and that would be that.

So Sam wasn’t actually all that surprised when, after a long and harrowing case involving a small coven, he woke up to the sound of bedsprings.

He mumbled a greeting, rolling over to rest his head against Dean’s shoulder. Dean kissed him insistently, nipping at his mouth and throat, waking Sam up with a series of little bites. Sam laughed, swatting at him.

“Good morning to you, too.”

Dean didn’t respond, just continued working his way across Sam’s body, sucking and biting at the soft places he knew were sensitive. His fingers closed on a nipple, pinching- hard- and twisting, making Sam yelp.

“Ow! Easy on the goods, man.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, and now his hands were on Sam’s hips, pulling hard at the loose sweatpants he wore to bed. Sam heard something tearing as Dean yanked at them, but his protest was lost when Dean crushed their mouths together again. One of his knees pressed between Sam’s thighs, using his weight to force them apart. He cupped the globes of Sam’s ass, squeezing hard, making Sam groan.

Dean’s mouth was hard on his, mashing his lips down onto his teeth, but there was nowhere to pull back to; Sam was pinned to the bed. He reached up, pushing at Dean’s shoulder, trying to get some of the weight off him, but Dean caught his wrist and pushed it back down, hard enough to hurt. His cock was riding against Sam’s belly, his thigh grinding into Sam’s junk in a way that Sam wasn’t sure he was even _supposed_ to be enjoying.

So, obviously, Dean was in the mood for something a little rougher, and okay, two could play at that game.

He growled playfully and hooked a leg around Dean’s waist, rolling them over until he was on top. Dean didn’t let him, throwing his weight into the roll, regaining his position on top as the two of them tumbled off the bed. Sam landed hard, the air going out of his lungs as his brother came down on top of him, one knee pinning his leg to stop him from trying again. His kneecap ground hard into the meat of Sam’s thigh, and when Sam tried to pull away, Dean wouldn’t let him.

“Hey. Seriously. Ease up, man.”

Dean just rose into a kneeling position, both his knees on Sam’s hips, crushing him down with his full weight. He scratched at Sam’s chest, short nails scraping hard. Sam reached for him, trying to catch his hands or push him away, but Dean grabbed his wrists and pinned them down. He put too much weight onto them, Sam could feel the bones of his wrists protesting. Dean held them both with one hand, his other dropping to pinch at Sam’s nipple again. Sam let out a little hiss, then an actual yell when Dean responded by twisting hard. Dean leaned in, teeth rough on the skin of his throat.

“God, Sammy, the noises you make. The things you make me want to do to you.”

Sam shivered, because okay, _that_ was a little hot. Dean’s hand slid up his chest, wrapping around his throat with just enough pressure that Sam could feel the _power_ there. Dean held him like that, tight, while he kissed him, hard and possessive.

“I need you, Sam, god, _fuck-”_

Dean was fumbling between his legs, pushing his pants down, stroking at his rock-hard cock. He let go of Sam’s wrists and Sam reached down, taking Dean into his hand. Dean caught his arms, walking forward on his knees until he was straddling Sam’s chest.

“Suck me off, Sam,” he ordered, and Sam balked.

“This really isn’t doing it for me, Dean-” he started, but he didn’t finish because Dean slapped him full across the face. For a second he just blinked at the ugly motel bedspread, too shocked to even respond. His cheek throbbed where he’d bitten it, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Dean grabbed him by the hair, forcing his chin up, and then the head of Dean’s cock was pressing against his lips.

“Suck me off,” Dean repeated, and Sam opened for him, feeling sick. This wasn’t the first time he’d had his brother’s cock in his mouth- hell, this wasn’t even the first time Dean had _hit_ him, but this was the first time they’d happened at the same time. There was rough and there was _this,_ and whatever this was, he didn’t like it.

Dena pushed deep into him, making him gag and choke, but he was trapped between Dean’s hips and his fist, there was nowhere to go. Sam pushed at him, trying to get him to let off the pressure, but Dean ignored him, just continued rocking into Sam’s throat. The look on his face was pure bliss.

“God Sam, that’s so good, just like that, just like-”

Sam was starting to see spots. He couldn’t breathe. He shoved at Dean but his brother was like stone, bearing down on his chest.

Sam clenched his eyes shut and bit him- not hard, but it had the intended effect. Dean pulled out, rocking back on his heels, and Sam collapsed back onto the carpet, gasping.

“Dean- Dean, I want to stop. Whatever kink this is, I don’t-”

Dean slapped him again. His teeth bit into the bruised skin of his lip, and he was bleeding harder now. He wiped his mouth and it came away red.

“Dean, what the _fuck-”_

“Yeah, exactly, what the fuck’s with the _teeth?_ Jesus, Sam, see how _you_ like it.” He backhanded Sam across the other cheek, and bright flickers crossed his vision.

“Ow, Jesus, I couldn’t breathe-”

“Yeah, fine, I know how to fix that.”

Dean leaned to one side, taking his weight off Sam as his fingers dug into his brother’s side. Sam pushed him away and Dean responded by burying his fist in Sam’s belly, just below his navel. Sam coughed and gagged and tried to get his limbs to cooperate as Dean rolled him onto his stomach.

“God, I swear, sometimes I think all you do is _bitch._ You don’t want it in the ass and then you turn around and whine about having to use your mouth.”

Dean grabbed Sam by the hips, hauling him up onto his knees. The meaning of his words sank in and Sam began struggling for real.

“Dean, no, I’m serious, this needs to stop. Right now.” His throat was hoarse and raspy- it burned when he tried to swallow. Dean slapped him across the ass and Sam’s face burned. He jerked away from Dean, but Dean just laughed. One of his knees rested on the back of Sam’s calf, and as Sam struggled, Dean kicked his other knee out to the side and pinned that one, too. Sam could feel his blood pounding in the crushed muscles, but there was no getting out from under Dean’s weight. He crossed his arms beneath him, trying to take the pressure off his lower back as Dean leaned forward.

“All that whining and here you are, spreading for me like the little slut I always knew you were.”

“Dean, I don’t want to do this.”

Dean’s hand caught his jaw, three fingers pushing into his mouth, deep back.

“Get ‘em wet for me, baby boy.”

Sam couldn’t respond, not with Dean’s fingers holding his tongue down, so he turned away instead, burying his face in the carpet. He wasn’t playing this game. Above him, he could feel Dean shrugging.

“Fine, have it your way.”

The next thing Sam felt was a finger sliding into him, fast and dry, forcing its way past the tight muscle of his ass. He screamed; he couldn’t help it.

“Dean, what the _fuck_?!” Because this, this they’d never done before, they’d stopped with blowjobs and jerkoff sessions and now Dean was shoving a second finger into him, and the stretch burned as his body tried to force itself shut around the intrusion.

“God, Sammy, you’re so tight, gonna feel so good-”

“Dean, _stop it,_ I’m serious, I want to stop-”

Dean’s fist curled in his hair, shoving his face down into the rough carpet. He could feel the bone of his cheek protesting against the concrete subfloor. A second later Dean’s weight came off his back, but before he could move, his brother was laying a rain of slaps across his ass and thighs.

 _He’s got a belt,_ Sam thought distantly. _He must have got the belt off his jeans._ But he couldn’t focus on the thought because the pain in his ass was shoving everything else out of his mind. He writhed against Dean’s grip but Dean held him still, shoving him down into the floor as the blows continued to land. Dean moved over his back, his ass, down his thighs, and back, hitting the same places two or three times, and by the time he was done, all Sam could do was pant weakly against the floor, tears leaking from his eyes.

He managed to raise another protest when he felt the blunt head of Dean’s cock pressing against his sore hole, but Dean didn’t pay any attention, just thrust into him, inch after painful inch. He withdrew and when he pushed in again it went smoother, and Sam realized he was bleeding. The pain was deep and dull and sharp and foreign, pain in places he’d never felt it before, and he was crying openly now, begging Dean to stop. Dean was murmuring in his ear, telling him how good he was. Like they were made for each other, Dean said.

Sam’s arms gave out and he felt the carpet, hard and rough, scraping at his chest and cheeks. He tried to get back up, but Dean held him down, fucking into him harder. The chafing in his chest warred with the pain in his back, the pain in his ass, and something sharp and aching against one shoulder.

“Come on, a little enthusiasm, Sammy,” Dean whispered in his ear, and his brothers fingers tightened around his throat again, hard this time, and he couldn’t breathe.

He writhed back against Dean’s grasp, thrashing to the side despite the pain. Something popped in his right knee and he would have screamed, if he had had the air. Black soaked through the edges of his vision, and the last thing he heard was Dean’s ragged panting in his ears.

 

 

When he woke up, he was lying on the bed. He was lying on the bed, and everything hurt. He was lying on the bed and everything hurt and Dean was gone.

He stared at the ceiling for a long time, trying to decide if the benefits of getting up outweighed the pain of doing so.

Eventually the pounding in his head sent him to his duffel in search of the vicoden he kept there. He downed two of them, dry, and then sat on the floor for a couple minutes, unwilling to go further. It hurt to sit, but it hurt to lie down, too. He hadn’t tried standing, but he felt like he knew what it would feel like.

The skin between his thighs was wet, and that’s what eventually got him to move. He didn’t know if it was sweat or blood or- or come, but in any case, he wanted it washed off and then he was going to go to bed.

He limped into the bathroom, his hand going automatically to the light switch. He paused before he could actually flick it, then thought better of it and carried on in the dark.

He turned the shower on, turning the knobs until the water steamed. He let it run over his hands, breathing slowly, concentrating, and then he went and turned the light on.

Under normal circumstances, he’d say it wasn’t so bad. If he’d walked away from a werewolf looking like this, it’d be a win. Definitely.

He tried to hold that frame of mind as he soaked a washcloth and began cataloging his injuries in the mirror.

No broken bones. That’s always the first thing, and he was good there. Everything else would heal on it’s own. No broken bones. Probably.

His left eye was swollen and colored an angry reddish-purple, and he leaned toward the mirror, probing it gently with his fingers. Pain surged through the side of his face for a second all he could do was focus on breathing. But the orbital bone wasn’t broken, which meant the eye wasn’t in danger.

He dabbed gingerly at the side of his face, trying to clean the worst of the dirt out of the carpet burn. His bottom lip was split, too, and his mouth was swelling on one side, but the bleeding had stopped there and he figured it would be back to normal in a day or two.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to look down at his chest.

His shoulders, chest, and belly were covered in bruising bite marks, the outlines of Dean’s teeth obvious in the purple-red crescents. Dark purple fingerprints circled his throat. He’d bled pretty profusely from a wound on his right shoulder, but the dried, caked blood was too thick to tell exactly what it was. He scrubbed at the dripping trails surrounding it, revealing more bruised bite marks and rugburn.

He ignored the massive blotch on his lower belly, where Dean had buried his fist into the soft skin. It hurt but it wasn’t bleeding internally, so it didn’t need attention.

Taking a deep breath, Sam turned around and looked at his back in the mirror.

He ended up on his knees, dry-heaving into the shower spray, his mind filled with the bruise-striped horror that was his skin. Dean had broken the skin in a couple places, and he wouldn’t know the full extent of the damage until he could get the blood off, but he could tell it was bad. His whole back was one big bruise, shot through with lines of black and red. The mirror was too high to see his ass and thighs, but by the feel of them, they were in the same shape.

The water felt like fire when he stood under it, letting it wash the crusted blood off his body. Some of the wounds opened and started bleeding fresh, turning the water a muddled brownish-red. Sam held still, letting the water wash it all away.

There wasn’t anything but pain, inside and out, and when it hurt that bad, he didn’t need to think about how it was Dean. He didn’t need to think about how the water was washing away more than just blood. He didn’t need to remember it happening, or try to figure out why, or think about what would happen when Dean came back. The pain purified him, took him somewhere clean and white where there weren’t any questions or details or memories.

Eventually the water ran clear. Sam frowned at it, not ready to be done yet. He snatched the washcloth from where it was waiting, and scrubbed vigorously at the wound on his shoulder.

The pain was incredible. It took all the power Sam had to force his hand to keep moving, keep wiping at the scabs and crusts of blood.

And then they were gone and Sam could see the wound for what it was-

His skin was split in the shape of Dean’s teeth, from where his brother had taken a mouthful of flesh and bitten down until he’d bled, and kept going, deeper and deeper into Sam’s unconscious body-

Sam’s legs buckled and he found himself curled up in the corner of the fiberglass tub, the water streaming over him as he stared at himself in horror. It didn’t balance. He couldn’t reconcile his brother with the pain thrumming through his body, could accept that _Dean caused this._ Dean liked this. Dean wanted this from him.

It didn’t balance.

 

It was a full nineteen hours before Dean stumbled back into the room, drunk and happy and still splattered with Sam’s blood.

Sam was ready for him, devil’s trap carved into the dirty carpet, witch’s brew at the ready. It was obvious, by then, that he was hexed- his eyes were almost full black, with spidery black veins working their way across his face. Nothing they hadn’t seen before. Sam worked the counterspell and the black began to fade almost immediately.

 

Sam sat on the bed, ignoring the pain, watching Dean with narrowed eyes. Dean was still drunk, but the spell was fading. His temperament was moving from jolly to melancholy. At one point he tried to climb into bed next to Sam, and Sam decked him. Dean spat out a mouthful of blood and returned to his own side of the room, grumbling. Eventually he passed out.

 

When he woke back up, Sam was still waiting. He sat with his arms crossed, staring at Dean.

“You back to normal?”

Dean clutched at his forehead, like he had the mother of all headaches. He groaned, then glanced over at Sam, and his face went ashen.

Sam could see him connecting the pieces in his head, but he said nothing. He just sat there, silent, waiting. Dean stood woodenly, crossing the room and kneeling in front of Sam. Carefully, with the lightest touches, he went over his little brother’s face, his chest, his throat, his back.

“I did all that,” he said, hollowly, when he’d seen it all. Sam nodded. “And I…” he swallowed. “God, Sam, I _raped_ you.”

Sam nodded again. He didn’t know what to say… the spells made people worse, took away inhibitions… but they didn’t _make_ people do things.

Not really.

“Sam, I can’t… I’d never… I don’t know…”

“But you wanted to.”

Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed hard. Didn’t answer.

Sam looked away.

“Next time, I’ll kill you. Spell or no.”

Dean’s eyes stayed fixed on the mark, the imprints of his teeth dug deep into Sam’s flesh. He swallowed again, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. It didn’t work.

“Yeah,” he said after a while.

  

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt [here.](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/113143.html?thread=41726199#t41853687) Nonnie originally requested either short and graphic or long and hurt/comforty, maybe with some mpreg thrown in. I have no intention of continuing this, but if it's pulled at your brainmeats and you want to write an expanded, ABO, mpreg, hurty-comforty longfic: go right ahead. I'd love to read it. 
> 
> So I'm gonna write some On Writing stuff here:   
> The request goes:   
> Another rape request. Established relationship. Dean violently raping Sam. Like really brutally. He can be possessed or whatever to make it work but I want it to catch Sam completely off guard, with no idea at all that something's up with Dean until some point during the rape or maybe after.  
> Later, after Dean takes off, when Sam goes into the bathroom to patch himself up, he falls apart when he sees how badly injured he is. Cleaning some partially dried blood from his shoulder, he uncovers a human bite mark and that's the last straw.  
> Can be either a longer story with hurt/comfort, guilty Dean, healing Sam, and rebuilding trust if you want (I like mpreg kind of a lot if you want Sam to get pregnant from the rape).  
> A shorter story with just the rape and immediate aftermath would also be awesome. 
> 
> And I got confused at first because I'm like "Dean's violently raping him, how could he *not know* something was up." Because, like, something would *have* to be up, right, people in established relationships don't just suddenly decide to violently rape each other. (Unless,) my brain helpfully supplies (unless maybe you're in a relationship with a person who might do exactly that.) And so that's how this came about.


End file.
